


Inexperience

by savorvrymoment



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22191565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savorvrymoment/pseuds/savorvrymoment
Summary: She cries after their first time.
Relationships: Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	Inexperience

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fun headcanon for these two. No real timeline. Trying to push through writer's block. :P

She cries after their first time.

She’s mortified about it, and of course Sam’s right there hovering, tapping her on the shoulder because she’s covering her face trying to hide, can’t see to read his lips or watch him sign. She can't fault him for being upset; he’s caring and compassionate, a thoroughly good man down to his very bones. It’s why she’d been attracted to him in the first place, or at least, what caused her to tip past purely physical attraction into this swirling vortex of emotion she’s in now.

He probably thinks she regrets it, or even that he’s hurt her. But God, she doesn’t regret it; it was so, _so_ good. It might have been a little uncomfortable at first, but that was only because she’s inexperienced and he’s, to say the least, well-endowed. Though he was gentle and easy, only gave her as much as she was ready for, fucked as hard as she asked for…

Which in those last few seconds was hard, _deep_ , his big hands holding her thighs spread apart and his big cock filling her up. The room had smelled heavy, like sweat and sex, and even though she hadn’t been able to hear anything, she’d felt herself crying out, seen Sam’s chest heaving as he panted.

It was intense. And even though she doesn’t want to, wishes she wouldn’t, she cries.

He’s the third man she’s been with; that’s how she thinks of it even if it’s a bit misleading. There was her boyfriend in high school, and they’d done some exploring, teenager stuff, a lot of making out and heavy petting. Then there was the guy she’d hooked up with in her mid-twenties; she’d gone a little farther with him, had given him a few blowjobs, had learned how much she liked being eaten out. But then he’d moved away, and she’d been caught up in hunting… 

And now? Now there’s Sam, pulling her hand away from her face with so much concern in his eyes. He signs at her, _okay?_ and _hurt_? Though his lips say, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Eileen…”

She reaches out to touch his face, his stubble prickly on her palm. She nods her head, then when his face crumbles, realizes he misunderstood. So she shakes her head no, which just leaves him looking confused. She sighs, trying to figure out something to tell him, some way to explain— _I’m upset for no real, sane reason. I’m not even_ really _upset._

“Eileen?” he asks.

“That was a lot,” she manages, sniffling. “I’d never really… I don’t have a lot of experience here.”

She hadn’t meant to say it like that, and of course Sam gets hung up on, “You’d never really… what?”

She shakes her head and says, “No, it was good. _You_ were good.” Because what man in his late thirties wants to sleep with someone who’s—she wasn’t a virgin, not really, but when it comes to the technicalities of a penis in the vagina…

Sam runs his thumbs under her eyes, stroking away the tears. He nods and says, “It was good for me, too, baby. Real good. But please, talk to me. Please.”

Too damn smart, she thinks. He already suspects, has probably already filled in the rest of that ‘I’d never really…’ sentence. “I’m not a virgin,” she tells him, adamant. 

“O-okay,” he says, face moving through a complicated series of expressions before settling on a smirk. Then, unbelievably, “I’m aware of that. We just had sex.”

She can’t help but laugh through her tears, and she shoves at his chest. Of course, he’s solid as a rock and barely moves, but her reaction makes him grin wider. “I _wasn’t_ ,” she insists, shoving at him again, and he leans down to kiss her, still grinning.

She gets lost in him for a bit, in the soft press of his lips and the scratch of his stubble and the wet of his mouth. He tastes a little different than she’s used to, than the times they’ve kissed in a hidden corner of the bunker, than the times they’ve kissed goodbye after a hunt. He tastes bitter, and she’s not sure whether she’s tasting the salt on her skin or the slick between her legs. The thought of both makes her shiver and press against him.

His mouth has been _everywhere_ on her body, and the intimacy of that is overwhelming.

He breaks away from the kiss to wipe the tears from her cheeks again. She’s managed to calm herself somewhat even if her eyes are still watery, and she gives him a shaky smile, brushing his hair back from his face. He smiles back at her, and she thinks he’s dropped their conversation. But then…

“You weren’t a virgin,” he agrees. “But what we did tonight—had you done those things before? Everything before?”

For one brief moment she hates him, hates him for being so damn smart and intuitive, and she seriously thinks about lying to him. But she doesn’t hate him, not at all; he’s a good man, _such_ a good man, and while she’s not quite ready to admit it, not even to herself, she knows she’s falling for him. She can’t lie to him, so she shakes her head and says, “No.”

Still leaning over her, he ducks down for a quick kiss before guessing, “Never had a guy go down on you before?”

She laughs at him, can’t help it, because of course he assumes she’s just been with jackasses too selfish to do that for her. Because _that’s_ more believable than a straight woman in her mid-thirties never having had vaginal sex. His brows are all furrowed by her reaction, though, lips downturned, the picture of confusion. She sighs, shakes her head, and says, “No, I’ve done that—had that done before.”

He somehow manages to scrunch his brows together even further, and she can practically see the cogs turning inside his head, putting two and two together.

She’d needed to do some research for a case, and the boys had insisted she just stay at the bunker while she used their library. It wasn’t the first time she’d done just that, but it was the first time Sam had quietly asked if she’d like to spend the night with him, in his bedroom. There’d been promise in his pretty hazel eyes, no question as to what he was offering, and she’d nodded before following him to his room.

There were a lot of passionate kisses and exploratory touches initially, that giddy yet shy sort of excitement over seeing each other bared for the first time. But then Sam had settled between her legs, licked and sucked at her clit and pressed a couple long, thick fingers inside of her. She’d come like that first, her fingers woven into his hair while she ground her hips instinctively against his face.

He’d taken her after that—or at least, he’d leaned across her to get a condom and lube out of the nightstand, then he’d taken her. And bless him, she’s not sure she would have managed without the extra lubricant.

But he knows. He’s figured out exactly where she is, and she watches his mouth open and close a few times, nonsensical, before he says, “Eileen…”

“No,” she says, hating the look on his face. “I was _not_ a virgin.”

“But you’d never…”

She’s not letting him finish that sentence. “I’d done stuff before,” she says. “And I know… Sam, I’m in my thirties. I own a vibrator, I watch porn, I’m well-acquainted with my own body, okay?”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times again, fish-like, before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She just stares, and he eventually relents, shaking his head and gathering her up in his arms. He repositions them until he’s on his back and she’s cuddled up against him, her head is pillowed on his chest. And maybe she should be indignant about all the manhandling, but truth is, she’s not even sure he’s aware he’s doing it. He’s just strong enough to put her wherever he wants, so he picks her up, lays her down, pulls her closer. It’s not like she struggles.

They lay for a while in silence, Sam occasionally squeezing her close in a sideways hug, his fingers trailing up and down her arm. She lets her hand wander across his chest, his stomach, down to where his Adonis belt disappears beneath the sheets, then gently traces her fingers back up to start the journey again. He takes her hand away eventually, settles his fingers into her palm to spell out a word—he’s gotten good at this over the past few months, she almost always understands him—and she dreads what he’s about to say, figures he’s about to keep probing the subject. But then…

_V-I-B-R-A-T-O-R-?_

She huffs a startled laugh and snatches her hand away to slap at him. She can feel him laughing as well, his chest bouncing underneath her. “Pervert,” she accuses, and he steals her hand back and spells out…

 _S-U-R-E._ Then, _W-E-L-L?_

She props herself up on an elbow so she can see his face, answers, “Yes, I have one. Why?”

“It’s hot,” he answers. Then, with a soft little blush, “Would you let me watch you use it sometime?”

Her face flushes hot, a tiny grin sneaking unbidden onto her lips. She hides her face against his shoulder for a brief moment, but then she pulls away to say, “Yeah, if you want to.”

He settles a hand on her hip, nodding. “Watching a woman touch herself, get herself off,” he says, pausing to lean in and kiss her. He finishes, “It really turns me on.”

She must be bright red, her face is burning, but she feels brave enough to ask, “Would you let me watch _you_?”

“What, me jerk off?” he asks, and then when she nods, he says, “Yeah, ‘course. That sorta thing get you off, too?”

“Yeah,” she admits, and he smiles at her, gentle and fond, and reaches up to touch her cheek. 

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, quiet, and then, “I wish you’d told me about… Before…”

“Why?” she interrupts him.

“Why--?” he parrots, seeming incredulous, before shaking his head. “I—nevermind, just… Stay here with me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to leave,” she says, while he drags her back down to lie on his chest. After a few seconds, she thinks to add, “Don’t tell Dean.”

He heaves a sigh before taking her hand in his and threading their fingers together. He squeezes once before pulling up to his lips and kissing her knuckles. He doesn’t let go once he drops their hands to his stomach, just wriggles a bit against the mattress, making himself comfortable. She takes his reaction as agreement that he won’t tell, and so she snuggles closer to him; he’s so warm, solid… _safe_.

She feels him yawn underneath her, his chest heaving, and she closes her eyes. She’s just dozing off when he takes her hand again, fingers against her palm, and spells out…

_I-T-S S-P-E-C-I-A-L T-O M-E_

She doesn’t open her eyes, afraid that tears will come again if she does, and murmurs, “Sam…”

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t try to spell anything else against her palm, just holds her hand in the stillness of the room.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
